


satellite call

by skullcrow



Series: critical role rarepair week 2017 [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cassandra de Rolo Needs a Hug, Crit Role Rarepair Week, Critical Role Rarepair Week 2017, Gen, Hitting Things as a Form of Therapy, Platonic Female/Female Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-22 20:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullcrow/pseuds/skullcrow
Summary: Sometimes, you just gotta hit things.





	satellite call

**Author's Note:**

> day i. non-romantic pairing: kima & cassandra.

"You can come out now," Kima says, in as friendly a voice as she can muster whilst smashing a dummy's face in. "I don't bite  _that_ hard.

She knocks the head clean off, an explosion of stuffing following the whistling arc her maul makes through the air. "Balls. Twelfth time this week." She slings her maul over her shoulder and turns to face the Lady of Whitestone.

For someone with the weight of a mending city on her shoulders, Cassandra de Rolo appears exceptionally small next to the tree she was ducked behind. A deer caught in a Daylight spell, or the wrong end of an arrow. She looks more her nineteen years than the steel queen presiding over their war room stratagems, shock of white through dark hair denoting an age far older. One hand remains pressed against the tree, like the rough bark is a lifeline and she a sailor drowning at sea.

"My apologies, Lady Kima, I didn't mean to intrude."

Kima cocks her head. Where did that iron spine go all of a sudden? "Uh, well, it's no problem? Don't sweat it, Lady Cassandra."

Her reassurances seem to have the opposite effect than she intended. The color in Cassandra's cheeks darkens and she folds her hands in front of her. "Yes, I, well..."

She looks to the side, then down at her feet, then back at Kima. In that brief glance away, composure seems to find her once more. Her voice doesn't shake when she says, "I should be going now. Good afternoon."

A pivot of her heel and Cassandra is off. In the split second of conscious thought afforded to her, Kima thinks,  _Don't let her walk away_.

"Hey, wait," she says.

Cassandra stills, barely three steps into her dramatic exit. Every line of her thin frame is rigid; Kima can see five long years etched into that perfect posture. Cassandra turns around, and Kima swings her maul down. The ground gives noisily under it.

"You wanna give it a try?"

 

 

*

 

 

Night has fallen by the time Kima hops off the barrel she was perched on top of, throat sore from shouting. She pats Cassandra's shoulder, which she can only reach because Cassandra is breathing heavily with her hands on her knees, a wrecked dummy beside her.

"Feel better?" says Kima.

"Surprisingly, yes."

"Told you. Hitting things works."

"Yes, well," Cassandra says dryly, "as a member of the Chamber of Whitestone, I'm supposed to use _diplomacy_ to solve problems, not mauls. In any case," she continues, as Kima makes a face, "I think I prefer weapons of stealth, which this certainly isn't."

Kima grins. "Which suits me just fine."

"You and your armor both."

Cassandra straightens up, exhaling. Despite the aches and the bruises, there's less of that perpetual tension in her muscles; she looks like a nineteen-year-old girl, for once, and not the prim and proper lady Kima first met. For a few hours, the weight of a mending city full of the Cinder King's victims has been lifted from her shoulders, and here stands a Cassandra de Rolo very few have ever seen.

"Hey," says Kima, and Cassandra looks down at her. "Anytime you feel like the world's too much to carry, don't be afraid to come see me." She grins, soft for the girl who never got to be, who hasn't seen much of it for five long years. "No need to hide behind trees anymore."

Cassandra turns away, but Kima thinks she sees her smile. "Thank you, Kima." She glances back and grins. "I'll be sure to remember whenever I find myself wanting to overturn a table."

Kima punches her shoulder lightly. "No problem, kid. Drinks on me."

**Author's Note:**

> i meant for this to be longer (and better written) but it's 12 am and i have a headache and nothing planned for f/f day. am i a disaster? yes. yes i am. you can find me on [tumblr](http://derolo.tumblr.com).
> 
> edit: it's a goddamn MAUL not a MACE. (fixed all instances of "mace" to "maul." my excuse: it was 12 am and i had a terrible headache and could barely see straight.)


End file.
